


wvine me an dine me

by saffronHeliotrope



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Food Kink, M/M, Tentacles, Xeno, kinky bro is best bro, xeno kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 02:06:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saffronHeliotrope/pseuds/saffronHeliotrope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You humans an’ your goddamn elaborate food. This is too pretty to eat.”</p><p>“What can I say? Humans like pretty things,” you drawl, and Cronus preens, vain little bastard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wvine me an dine me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lir/gifts).



> Inspiration for this little ficlet came from a prompt I once gave [Lira](http://www.elegantanagram.tumblr.com), a sushi dinner, and the first twenty seconds of [this amazing video](http://youtu.be/yi9AGkdeqZA) about cuttlefish.

When Cronus picks up his chopsticks and angles them perfectly in his curved claws on the first try, you say, “I see you’ve been practicing.”

“God bless youtube videos.” He clicks the chopsticks together expertly in the air. “Couldn’t very well come unprepared, could I?”

“Heaven forfend.” You flash him a smirk, a feral slash of teeth.

“So what are we lookin’ at here, champ?” The platter in the center of the table holds an artistic arrangement of maki and nigiri, colorful rolls topped with fish or avocado or roe, jewel-bright chunks of meat draped over little pats of rice and glistening softly in the restaurant’s ambient light. “You humans an’ your goddamn elaborate food. This is too pretty to eat.”

“What can I say? Humans like pretty things,” you drawl, and Cronus preens, vain little bastard. He _is_ pretty, though, equal parts waifish European male model and monster from the deeps, all cheekbones and needle teeth. The greaser look is good on him, tough guy from a more innocent time, with a barely-concealed vulnerability and eagerness to please that you find incredibly appealing. “It’s just sushi, bro. Take a piece, dunk in the soy sauce, enjoy. That’s all there is to it.”

“Hmm.” Cronus examines the offerings. “An’ the fish is raw.”

“Right.”

“An’ humans like it that way.”

“Right.”

“You understand,” says Cronus, delicately picking up a piece of a roll, “that this is pretty much upright fuckin’ cannibalism here?”

You lean back, letting the smirk grow more pronounced. “That a problem, fishface?”

Cronus’ fins flare indignantly, neck gillslits clapping shut with a little _glub._ “Not on your life, chief,” he snaps. With perfect technique, he dunks the roll into his little dish of soy sauce, then leans forward and pops it into that shark-toothed maw, giving you a glimpse of his long pointy purple tongue. He chews thoughtfully.

“Well?”

He swallows. “Bit weird. I’m reservin’ judgement.”

You pick up your own chopsticks and select a piece of tuna nigiri, flip it over easily and dip the edge of the fish in your soy sauce. “Try this,” you say, leaning forward and offering it to him. He eyes it skeptically. “Open up, babe,” you say, and his fins flutter sweetly, the faintest hint of a purple flush across his cheeks as he complies. This is too easy.

He takes the sushi from you, heavy-lidded eyes darting up to meet yours, tip of that tongue curling ever so briefly around the end of your chopsticks. Under the table your hand curls into a fist. He makes a little hum of pleasure, lids drooping; the unctuous tuna is probably melting in his mouth. Then he flinches, purple blush deepening on his face. Must have been the bead of wasabi hidden under the fish.

He gives a little cough. You grin. He’s too fucking cute.

“Like it?”

“Maybe it’s growin’ on me,” he says, hedging and coy. “So what’s this one?” He points at the big futomaki, the crazy monster roll with salmon and shrimp tempura and white tuna and crab, overstuffed past the point of decency and good taste, which you ordered for the sheer ridiculousness of it. “That one ain’t jokin’ around, huh?”

“Try it,” you say, picking up a piece for him. He looks at you askance as you approach him with it. It’s fully two and a half inches across. “Go on. Down the hatch, sweetheart. Unless you don’t think you can take it.”

It’s like taking candy from a baby. “Oh, I can take it,” he says. “You haven’t seen half a what I’m capable of.”

He grabs your wrist and pulls your hand in, and just as you think he might chicken out and bite the huge roll in half, his jaw practically unhinges. From somewhere behind his back teeth, eight violet sucker-lined tentacles suddenly unfurl out of nowhere, blossoming like a terrible flower. You tense minutely in shock. There’s a smug glint in his eye as the tentacles and his nearly prehensile tongue take the sushi from your chopsticks, and his crazy man-eater trap of a mouth closes again, barely chewing as the roll disappears.

He licks his lips. You’ve got goosebumps all up and down your arms. _Wrong wrong wrong holy fuck can I please stick my dick in that as soon as humanly possible._ You’re grateful, not for the first time, for your shades.

“Holy shit, babe,” you breathe.

“Gimme more,” he says with a smile.


End file.
